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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563971">keep the streets empty for me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fl4nel/pseuds/fl4nel'>fl4nel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sunaosa aus [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Racing, M/M, Mention of cops, OsaSuna Week, Public Makeouts, Street Racing, sakuatsu if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:06:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fl4nel/pseuds/fl4nel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Suna, and whatever they could have had going on, was one of the many things Osamu had deliberately left behind when he quit racing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sunaosa aus [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>OsaSuna Week 2020, SunaOsa</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>keep the streets empty for me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A late entry for Osasuna week Day 2: <b>Midnight / Secrets</b></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Tsumu, ya fuckin' dickhead!”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu’s modified Supra roars past him—is that Sakusa in the passenger seat? Osamu is going to kill his brother—effectively leaving him stranded in the middle of the mountains without any means of going back to the city when the police is on their asses. Piece of shit.</p><p> </p><p>The sirens are growing louder and what's left of the crowd is already piling up in their cars and hurrying away in a panic, a desperate attempt at outrunning the cops. Osamu curses the heavens for being stuck with a brother that thinks with his dick and has the street racing reputation that he has. The cops are going to have a field day with him, Osamu can already tell. A Miya twin in custody, at last!</p><p> </p><p>"Need a ride?"</p><p> </p><p>Suna Rintarou halts his motorcycle next to him, a sleek, deceptively discreet thing, and hands him a helmet, eyebrow raised in question.</p><p> </p><p>The last time they'd run into each other, Osamu was still racing, had not yet traded the thrill of the streets for the (relative) quiet of his own restaurant, and Suna was slowly making a name for himself as a speed demon. Osamu had quit before they ever got the chance to go against each other, and the few conversations they had never went further than taunts and heated stares exchanged over the purring of engines modified to high heavens. He'd tried not thinking about it. Suna, and whatever they could have had going on, was one of the many things Osamu had deliberately left behind when he quit.</p><p> </p><p>Life has a funny way to go about things sometimes. Osamu grabs the helmet, swings a leg over the bike and barely has the time to wrap an arm around Suna's torso before the engine roars to life and they're propelled forward into the night.</p><p> </p><p>His laughter gets lost in the wind as they speed away, leaving police lights far in the distance. Suna is good. And he’s fast. Scenery flies by, blurry trees then empty fields once they get off the mountains and Osamu’s grinning like a mad man. He quit racing, sure, but that never meant losing his love for speed. The sound of the wind rushing in his ears is still exhilarating, the rush of adrenaline in his veins still electrifying. He whoops loudly when they catch up with one of the cars that left before them and he can feel Suna’s chest rumbling with a laugh in response.</p><p> </p><p>Suna is a warm and solid presence between his arms and Osamu quietly indulges in the way his back muscles flex under his jacket whenever he shifts gears or take a turn. <em>I could get used to this</em>, Osamu thinks, resting his head between Suna’s shoulder blades.</p><p> </p><p>By the time they roll up downtown, Suna slowing down to weave between the 3AM crowd, most of his anger has already bled out. He'll drop kick Atsumu in the face next time they see each other, and they’ll probably never speak about it again.</p><p> </p><p>Suna manoeuvres his bike in a dark alleyway and Osamu hops off before he carefully positions it between two containers where it disappears out of sight.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu hands him back the helmet, not bothering to hide how wide he’s still smiling. "Thanks. I owe ‘ya one. Really saved my ass back there."</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind.” Suna lifts his eyebrows suggestively and Osamu rolls his eyes. His cheeks are starting to hurt. "It’s no problem,” Suna adds, grabbing the helmet, “That was kind of a dick move, wasn't it?"</p><p> </p><p>Osamu snorts. Understatement of the century. "Tsumu's an asshole."</p><p> </p><p>"You said it, not me."</p><p> </p><p>Suna covers the bike with a tarp and guides them back towards the bustling streets. It’s been awhile since Osamu’s been downtown at this hour. The buzzing of the neon shop signs and the drunk laughter are almost nostalgic.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, it looks like Suna dropped them off only a few minutes away from his shop. Osamu wonders if that means he lives nearby. Sensing the question, Suna turns to him and smiles lazily. "Sorry, hope you don’t live too far. That’s usually where I leave my bike. I’ll come pick it up tomorrow when police aren’t around.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s probably a good idea. They might have left the cops in the dust, but the evening’s still young and it wouldn’t be the first time they’d showed up unexpectedly.</p><p> </p><p>"Ya don’t have to worry about it. I can walk back from here."</p><p> </p><p>Before he can add anything, Osamu is roughly pulled backward and pinned against a wall, Suna leaning in his space with his bike helmet crushed between their bodies.</p><p> </p><p>"Wh—"</p><p> </p><p><em>Cops, sorry</em>. Suna mouths and sticks an elbow up on the wall angling his head in a way that hides them both from view.</p><p> </p><p><em>Shit</em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Of course.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Well, this is cozy. Osamu risks a look behind Suna’s shoulders and immediately shrinks on himself. Sure enough, there are two uniformed officers looking around, mumbling in their walkie-talkies. He hides his face into Suna’s neck. Guess they mix-in pretty well with the tipsy, touchy, crowd hanging around these parts. There’s also the off‑chance that the cops are not even looking for them. It should be fine as long as they don’t see the helmet. Or recognize the face he unfortunately shares with his twin. Osamu snakes an arm around Suna’s back and tugs to bring him even closer.</p><p> </p><p>Suna gasps at their renewed proximity—or at the helmet digging into his stomach—but remains perfectly still otherwise. He chuckles. “Enjoying yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>The curl of his lips brush against Osamu’s earlobe when he speaks, and Osamu has to repress a violent shiver. From afar, it probably looks like they’re having a quiet, intimate conversation. From up close however, it feels like Osamu’s heart is about to burst out of his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you?” he murmurs, making sure to skim his lips over the curve of Suna’s throat, “Enjoying yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>He leans back slightly to gauge Suna’s reaction and is pleased to find the other man smirking, glancing down at his mouth, then back up to meet his eyes. Heat coils in his stomach. “Very much so,” Suna says, nudging a leg between Osamu’s, “Maybe a little too much.”</p><p> </p><p>“Glad ‘ta hear we’re on the same page.” Osamu licks his lips, slow, deliberate, and feels a vindictive sort of satisfaction at the way Suna trails the movement with sharp eyes. After all these months, this is where he could have been, stuck between Suna and a hard place.</p><p> </p><p>He lets go of Suna’s waist to grab at the hood of his jacket, pulling it upward to hide the back of his head and then forward to crash their lips together.</p><p> </p><p>Suna doesn’t waste a moment, letting the weight of their bodies hold the helmet between them and using both hands to hold Osamu’s jaw and deepen the kiss. It’s hot, messy, languid and fuck, Osamu is in way over his head. The cops are the furthest thing from his mind when Suna sighs into the kiss, allowing him to slip his tongue between willing lips.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu is greedy in all things in life. Racing. Food. Everything in between. <em>This is no exception</em>, he thinks, licking inside Suna’s mouth with a desperate sort of urgency, swallowing every moan escaping his lips. Osamu’s greedy, he knows that. But he has no time to feel guilty about it when Suna responds in kind, sucking on his tongue and playful nipping at his lower lip.</p><p> </p><p>Could have been minutes, could have been hours when Suna finally pulls back, chuckling, blush high on his cheeks. “This is nice, don’t get me wrong. I just have a feeling things are about to get a little indecent.” He shoots a pointed look between their bodies.</p><p> </p><p>Osamu huffs out a laugh. Point taken. A quick look around assures him the cops are nowhere in sight. “I can’t see them anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Suna leans back in to kiss his jaw, right where it meets his neck. “Good. Want to go to my place?” Osamu shivers.</p><p> </p><p>“Do I ever.”</p><p> </p><p>That gets him a quiet laugh and another kiss, on the lips this time. It’s not exactly chaste, but it is loaded. Purposeful. It feels like a promise, one Osamu intends to reciprocate tenfold.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!! I hope you're all taking care of yourselves!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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